Civil service jingles and other things

by Harry McDonald Walters

The business of the day being done, Johns started for home. On the way he bought himself a hat, and put it on. He had never bought a hat since he was married, without the style, price and color, being passed on by Mrs. Johns. He dropped into his club, played a game of bridge and had a glass of wine with a friend, much to the astonishment of the boys; for all these things were known to be objectionable to Mrs. Johns. If Johns’ name was mentioned in club circles, men smiled and said he had taken the veil. Leaving the club, Johns took a hansom and drove home, smoking a cigar, which hansom and cigar were other things objectionable to Mrs. Johns.

At first thought, the behavior of Johns may seem to have been positively brutal, in doing with malice prepense so many things objectionable to his wife. But there was some wisdom in his course, as will appear.

To relate such an incident as the action of Johns in the hearing of ladies would be productive of sundry indignant sniffs and snorts, and such remarks as, “I would like to have seen him try it on me;” but the sniffs, snorts and remarks would all come from the same type of women—old stagers, not young, inexperienced things, like Mrs. Johns, just turned twenty-three.

When Johns arrived at his home, Mrs. Johns was on the verandah waiting. She was not looking very agreeable, for Johns was late for dinner—an unpardonable offence.

Mrs. Johns saw the cigar, saw the hansom, saw the hat, smelled the wine as Johns kissed her, and saw the time by her tiny wrist watch. Her first impression was that Johns was intoxicated; but a second look into his eye, and a consideration of his general bearing, told her he was quite sober. She was quite perplexed, non-plused, and, in consequence, mad, very mad, and hurt, too. Beyond all, however, she was curious to know what it all meant. She concluded, finally, that Johns had met one of his horrid former friends, and had been “showing off.”

Mrs. and Mr. Johns, like well-behaved people, walked silently and decorously into dinner and sat down, both thoughtful. Johns had nothing to say, until cross-examination opened by the plaintiff. Mrs. Johns had lots to say; but was undecided where to commence in order to make the most of her efforts. She did not wish to seem puzzled or curious, so refrained from asking questions. She sullenly waited, hoping that Johns would venture to report and offer explanations, thus giving her an opening. But Johns did nothing of the kind. He silently and complacently proceeded to take his soup, which was very exasperating, altogether too much, in fact, for Mrs. Johns, who finally cast discretion to the winds and allowed her pent-up anger to have its way. She stormed and raved, and abused poor Johns till she was spent, Johns meanwhile making vain attempts to calm her and explain just in the way he had planned to do; but he got no chance till Mrs. Johns broke down and gave way to tears. Then Johns explained how he had been thinking about the many things his wife worried herself with, and how he had decided that she had too much to think of; and that he had done all the things he ought not to have done, like the miserable sinner mentioned in the prayer book, just to illustrate the number of things she was attempting to regulate, all to no end, because she only made him uncomfortable and failed to achieve happiness for herself. He put the matter very nicely and coolly, without losing his temper; but the kind of oil he attempted to throw on the troubled waters of Mrs. Johns’ temper did not seem to be the right kind of oil, for she waxed frantic under his disclosures, and said things of all kinds, many of them quite untrue, among which last she said that she did not love Johns, never did love him, and never would; that she despised him; that he was a low, uncouth, and uncultured brute, and that it was only for the sake of appearances that she had remained with him and tried to make him fit for polite society, and that he was just like other men, selfish and thoughtless after a few years’ marriage.

Women say this kind of thing every day to men whom they worship, and never expect to be taken at par and never should be. The value of a statement by a woman is entirely different to the value of a statement by a man.

At this point Johns made a grave mistake. He took his wife’s intemperate utterances at par. He was deeply grieved to learn what he thought was the real condition of her mind, and, believing, that all happiness was gone for him, and that there was no use continuing the painful scene, he made for his hat, intending to leave the house.

Mrs. Johns, seeing his move, ran to him and clung about his neck, saying: “Don’t go out Jack; please don’t go; you have never done this before; stay and be what you have always been to me; forgive me for saying such wicked things; they are not true, Jack; I do not mean them at all.”

Here Johns made another mistake, he thought it was all over. He assured his wife that he loved her, and received like assurances from her. He kissed her, and she tossed his hair with loving fingers and smiled. Then as they sat together on a tete-a-tete sofa in the drawing room she sweetly said: “Now, John, promise me that you will never do anything like that again. You know I am always right about things, and so promise me that you will never go to the club again, or smoke horrid cigars, or play cards, or drink wine, or be late for dinner, or wear clothes I do not like, or, or, or anything.” Johns paused. If he had said, “Yes, dear,” he would have been ruined for life, and Mrs. Johns would have loved him less and less as years went by, and would have despised him always; but he did not say, “Yes, dear.” On the contrary, he said, “No, dear; I cannot promise so much.” And he explained as well as he could why he could not make foolish blanket promises, covering all his future life in all its petty details, and he tried to make her see how unreasonable she would be to insist on such a demand promissory note. He exampled husbands she knew, who notoriously hood-winked and humbugged their wives with wicked and foolish lies, because they were afraid to be themselves. He pictured to her the forlorn state of her father as a horrible specimen of petticoat government. He was eloquent, and he thought convincing, in his plea for some liberty. If Mrs. Johns had had half the common sense she prided herself on having, she would have accepted his explanation. She would have seen that it was just as foolish to expect to manage all the details of a man’s doings, comings and goings, wearings and tastes, as it would be for a man to offer to do the same for a woman; but, of course, no person, man or woman, is quite as wise as they believe themselves to be, and besides, Mrs. Johns was still mad and thought she was in a contest for her liberty, instead of seeing that she was attacking her husband’s liberty. She became cold and dignified, and calmly told Johns that he was a calculating, unsympathetic brute, and that she would forthwith return to her ma.